A Riddle to be Told (Hermione x Male Reader)

The Chamber of Secrets; Chapter 1; the search complete

    Rain slapped the London streets. Tom, slightly taller and even more handsome than he was in his 1st year, walked calmly down the street with a cloak on he'd gotten from charming a gentleman a few weeks ago. It was an expensive one too; a lucky find indeed.  

   Tom stormed into the Leakey Cauldron, ignoring the various looks anyone gave him, and keeping his identity hidden within the hood of the cloak. For today, was on a mission; one that he could not afford any to know about. For today he'd steal a most notorious book on the dark arts, which Tom had come across whilst reading; 'Secrets of the Darkest Art' was it's title. 

     Throughout the summer, Tom's fascination with the dark arts, and its practise, has only gotten stronger with the long - and lonely - days of the orphanage. Ron and Hermione would write frequently, but owl delivery left days between a message and a reply. 

    Tom was not due for a visit to the Burrow for 2 weeks; and so he wished to complete a few personal endeavours. One of these being to study the dark arts, for they - in Tom's mind - would be yet another path to increase his power. 

    It was last known to be in Borgin and Burke's, of Knockturn alley; and so, Tom walked confidently through the Leakey Cauldron, and back out into the heavy rain of Diagon Alley. Knockturn alley itself was adjacent to Diagon alley, and so Tom searched up and down for the openning. Soon, however, he found it - he could see Borgin and Burkes at the end of it, too. A great smirk fell upon his plump lips. 

    Confidently, Tom entered the alleyway. Instantaneously, Tom was hit with the deep smell of smoke an a foul odour, with the tight alleyway leaving little space for any of the witches and wizards to move - they looked rather worse for wear too, dressed in jagged robes shaggier than even that of the average London tramp. 

     Tom went onward nonetheless - keeping his head down until he found himself in front of Borgin and Burke's. He took his wand out, the sleek ebony wood gleaming under the hushed light above the store owner's head. 

     The owner did not flinch at the odd figure that entered his store - shady types, at Tom's assumption, were the only sort who entered this shop anyway. It was highly irregular, with heads on the walls, and a severed hand in glass case, with human bones too. It had a foul stench to it too. 

    However, there it was - the book, laying on a dust-ridden shelf, having seemingly not moved for the past century. The most evil book ever written, laying casually in some run-down shop - it was almost a comical sight. 

     Tom slid the book under his cloak; looked behind his shoulder, noticing the shop owner standing idle, not having even noticed Tom at all. Tom kept his cloak covered, as he began to walk calmly toward the exit of the shop. Though, just before he could get there, the man sprung into life.

    'and to where in Merlin's mad house do ya think you're going?' he asked, as if he were a pirate. Tom turned around, his heart beat sped up. He turned to the shop owner, looking innocently.

     'sorry, sir - I don't have much money' he said, in an expression that fooled most people. 'I'd be much thankful if you let me pass. I'll never return back - I promise' Tom continued. By now, most people would have let him pass - but, this shop owner seemed to be most heartless.

    'how about you pay for yer item, and never return, eh?' said the shop owner. Tom's expression hardened at the man, who was most surprised to see a young boy before him. 'You?' questioned the man.  

   Tom frowned, having never met the man in his life. Seeing the man momentarily distracted, Tom darted for the exit. 

    'hey!' he shouted.

     Tom, having been on a diet of practically nothing since he returned to Wool's, ran like the wind away from Borgin and Burkes - 'Secrets of the Darkest Art' clutched in his hands. The thick mass of people cleared the way for Tom to pass, though closed in once again as soon as he passed - leaving the shop owner behind almost as soon as the chase began.

    Tom darted across Diagon alley, through the Leakey Cauldron, and back into the raining streets of London. He wasted no time in continuing to sprint down the foggy streets, under the slapping rain with his cloak hood up, until he reached an under passage. Tom hastily caught up his heavy breath, making sure the old book in his hands was still in tact. 

   Tom sighed in relief, before allowing himself a few more seconds of rest. He doubted the shop owner was so far behind him, that he could walk the rest of the way. Tom barely had the energy for this sort of running, but he continued back out into the rain once again - back to the orphanage.

    Which, not too long after, Tom found himself on that same depressing street he gazes at every day; it still looked exactly like it did would have done 150 years ago, the smog stained bricks and constant grey sky looked upon in distain by every orphan in Wool's 200 year life so far. Tom was probably dressed the same too; he dearly missed his Slytherin robes, which were warm and comfortable. His clothes, beneath the cloak, were dirty, and had holes throughout, having never met the end of a stitch in the many years they've been worn. 

   Entering the orphanage, Tom rid himself of the rained-on cloak, as he made his way up to his prison cell of a room. The creaks of the stairs did well enough to notify the rest of the orphanage that he was back; not that they cared, of course. They wouldn't flinch even if Tom returned to them in a body bag. 

    However, excitement reared it's head upon Tom's thoughts, as he sat himself down on his hard-as-a-rock bed, Bruna slithering next to him. 'I've got it' said Tom, simply. 'congratulationsssss' she responded. 

   Bruna never answered Tom with more than one word, because her brain was not big enough to string sentences together. Still, the snake made for better company than any of the other kids - and especially not Ms Gilford or Mr Wiltshire, who seemed to dislike Tom even more now than before. Perhaps because Tom, when he returned, was visibly far more nourished than all the other kids - even more than Ms Gilford and Mr Wiltshire. 

    Nonetheless, Tom laid on his bed and opened up the book; looking through the contents page, Tom smirked widely with all the spells he could learn - jinxes, deadly spells, deadly transfigurations, and even immortality through 'horcruxes'. 

    To go through all of this, however, would mean Tom would have to bring it with him on his trip to Hogwarts - which was most certainly risky. For if he were to be caught with the book, then he'd be expelled from Hogwarts quicker than he could say 'dark arts'. And, by Merlin, Tom did NOT want that. 

    He could not begin to read it properly right now, either - for today Tom would travel to the Burrow. He'd have to go back into Diagon Alley to use the floo network, but he was sure the shop owner was back in his shop by now - seeing as Tom already noticed other people attempt to steal from Borgin and Burke's as soon as he ran after Tom. 

    The rain outside, annoyingly, had not let up either. It, someway, had managed to get even harder than before - the rain slapping against Tom's window in such a fashion, that the boy was surprised his window had not broken by now. 

    Tom took his usual battered old suitcase with him, putting his Slytherin cloak and 'Secrets of the Darkest Art' inside. He'd not be caught wearing his clothes of an orphan if he could get away with it. 

    Back down the most loud stairs in all of Britain, and out into her usual weather, Tom made his way straight back for Diagon Alley, hoping against all hopes that that shop keeper would not be there to greet him.